


Wanted Man

by anonomoose21



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Elemental Magic, Eventual Romance, M/M, Magical Realism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pirate Sherlock, Piratelock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-04-04 06:50:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14014590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonomoose21/pseuds/anonomoose21
Summary: When several civilians are taken hostage from England, Sherlock Holmes couldn't care less.When it is his brother who is taking them, he still couldn't care any less.But when a former Navy Captain asks for his help to save them? Well who is Sherlock, currently locked up and heading to the gallows, to pass up the opportunity?





	1. Holmes

**Author's Note:**

> Hey readers! This is something I've been meaning to write for awhile, and it's finally happened. If it sucks then I'm sorry, I'm just writing this to get it out of my head at the moment. I don't know where this story is going which is why there are so few tags and lack of a rating. We're all in for a bit of a surprise I think. 
> 
> Updates may not be frequent, so sorry for that. I have other stories that I'm working on and life has a tendency to get in the way.
> 
> Despite all that, I hope you find some joy with it. Please leave some comments and kudos if you do :)

Running, how exciting. Finally something worthy of my time instead of silly attacks on ships I come across at sea.

Now here is something worth my efforts: running for my life--though I'm always on the run for my life, this is a bit more literal.

It's dark; the moon is shining full in the clear night sky, casting shadows off the stone buildings and igniting the air with enough light to see but little enough to be able to hide within the shadows. I stopped in a narrow and dark alley, watching as a group of navy soldiers run past it, commanding orders to split up and call for back up. _Humph_ , idiots, didn't even see me turn off.

Once they're gone I turn and walk to the other end of the alley and come upon a busy street. Horses pull carriages, people walk on the sidewalks busying themselves with their shops, others walking in and out of them, carrying their recent purchases and heading home. A man stands close to me, handing out the last of today's newspaper. Simple life, nothing interesting. Lost his job at the journal and to keep himself rather close to said job he loves, he sells the paper which really is a pathetic way to keep close. He is envious of the authors in the paper, he hates his life and is desperate to get the girl at the shop across the way to notice him based on his glances at her every five- no four seconds. Dull.

I walk in the opposite direction, careful to keep to the shadows and keep my face to my feet. The last thing I need is a 'noble' civilian to recognize me and try to do the 'right thing'. I roll my eyes, that's happened more times than I care to admit but I'm rather proud to say that those wonderful civilians have made me better in the act of backhanding and I recently learned how to knock the person unconscious from it.

Hmm, maybe I should walk out in the open and let someone recognize me; it will give me another chance to practice such acts. And besides, keeping hidden is becoming boring again. I need to _run_.

Sharp left turn and I'm crossing the street. Nobody gives me a second glance, just another lad making his way home for the night. Just a short walk down a dark alley and I'm at the docks. I can see it from here; all the beautiful ships and the reflection of the moon off the water. There's my home.

But now I must be cautious, I'm too close to the docks to be caught.

I casually stroll down the alley, no pedestrians pay any attention and I smirk at their ignorance. What it must be like in their tiny little brains.

"Really, brother dear, you're just going to stroll out like this?" I stopped in my tracks, I'm halfway down the alley and that voice, oh that voice, stops me. I'm _so close_ to being free again and _he_ shows up.

"News travels fast I suppose." Mycroft must've heard of my escape, which is the only reason he would ever make port in such a large city. No pirate in their right mind would ever risk coming somewhere so heavily populated without a good enough reason. You might as well walk yourself to the gallows the moment you cross that gangplank onto the dock.

"Well, I couldn't let my brother be alone on such a big day now could I?" I turned around and faced my eldest sibling. He is leaning on his drawn sword, as usual, and clearly has gained weight. _Humph_ , someone has been slumming it.

"The escape or gallows?" I narrowed my eyes.

"Both I suppose, however you'd like to perceive it."

"You came to see me strangle to death and upon your arrival you discover I had escaped. Really, Mycroft you should have known I wasn't ever going to let myself die such a tedious death."

"No you're right. Though, I'm surprised it took you so long to escape." Mycroft smiled in that condescending 'I'm much smarter than you' smile. I hate it.

"You've gained weight." I shot at him, knowing it would hit a nerve.

"You've lost it." He threw back, so it doesn't bother him this time. Something must've happened to boost his confidence level.

"Keeps me swift."

"And I steady." A pause. "Sherlock, it's over."

"Is it? Because I was just getting started." I smirked again, if he thinks I'm going to let him ruin my life more so than he already has then he is sadly mistaken. "There is the rest of the world that has yet to be discovered. And I will be the one to discover it and bathe in its vast riches of gold and silver and you Mycroft will be sitting in a whore house listening to those creatures tell you how great you are, which obviously is a lie, they have to tell everyone that. So I will be on my way now. It was so very lovely to see you again Mycroft and I'm very sorry you will not have the pleasure of witnessing my death." With that, I turned on my heel and walked towards the ships calling to me and I can finally be with them at last. But Mycroft, damn him, had me stop again.

"Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock. Look at where you ended up because of it." And suddenly Mycrofts footsteps faded away.

I ignored his words, for now. They are locked away in my mind palace in the file of all the times Mycroft has told me that caring is never an advantage.

But it isn't, you cared so you came and then you ended up on death row because you were recognized. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

No, ponder on it later. I need to leave this awful city.

I peaked around the corner of the alley and looked for any signs of life. Nothing. Strange, very strange. But knowing Mycroft he probably pulled some strings so he wouldn't be noticed coming and leaving. With careful steps, I walked to the docks, keeping my head down and a close eye over my shoulder.

It wasn't until I was walking on the nearest dock that I noticed the people at the end of it. I froze and examined a bit closer, they're not Navy, they're regular people- tied up and in a line being led onto a ship. I walked a bit closer, keeping near the docks ledge and ducked under the gangplank of a ship next to the occupied one. Upon closer examination, I noticed Mycrofts first mate, Victor, leading the weeping and crying prisoners onto the ship, gun drawn and ready to fire if necessary. What could Mycroft possibly want such dull humans for?

Once they were all on the ship, I came out of my hiding place and started back to the shore. I'll have to find a different dock to leave from.

Once on flat land, I was again greeted by my loving brother. "Going somewhere, brother?" That condescending smile is on his chapped lips again. There is a sudden nagging at the back of my mind that something isn't quite right, I ignore it in favor of just leaving already.

"Away from here," I said and kept walking.

"And how do you propose to do that with no crew?"

"It's been done before." I'm still walking away, _take a hint_.

"James Moriarty, yes. Brilliant man, not sure you can pull it off Sherlock."

I call over my shoulder, "watch me."

We're a good distance away that Mycroft has to yell his next words. "You're not going to ask about my prisoners?"

"I don't care." I called, not _quite_ a lie, but I need to get out of here before I can waste my time figuring out something that can be tomorrow's problem.

"Funny time to suddenly not care about something." Mycroft called. I didn't respond and made my way onto the dock opposite, looking about for a ship reasonable enough to take with only one person manning it. Yes, it is very difficult and bordering impossible to sail your own ship, but there are rumors of another pirate, Moriarty, doing it when he needed to make a swift escape off an island, similar to what I'm doing now.

Mycroft and his crew were setting sail by the time I found a ship of my own. It's smaller but still large enough to need a crew. I'll make it work.

Mycrofts ship in sailing into the distance when suddenly a clump of boots are stomping on the dock, running towards my ship. I hear swords being drawn and guns locking into place and suddenly they all stop. I turn around and see over twenty of the Royal Navy standing at the dock facing the ship. Guns and swords pointed at me. 

And suddenly that nagging feeling in the back of my head makes sense. _He set me up_.

"Please step off the ship." The man, Stamford, spoke. He is head of the Royal Navy here and caught me the last time. It was not one of my proudest moments considering the guy is larger than Mycroft and he was clever enough to cut me off on a rooftop and tackle me from the roof to the ground, the only thing breaking our fall was a pile of barrels. Before I had the chance to react, I felt the iron manacles around my wrists.

My own brother outsmarted me. I don't know if I should be more impressed or annoyed. I take a deep breath and speak. "You sure you want to be taking me? My brother just left with about fifteen or so of your people as prisoners."

Stamford stared at me. "You're lying."

"I'm not; if you would stop wasting your time chasing me you would notice half your people losing their minds trying to find their loved ones." Not that I've seen this, but it is a pretty easy deduction to make.

"Step off the ship." Stamford said again. I stare at him but do as I'm told. I would not be able to have this ship ready and sailing before a bunch of angry Navy sailors climbed on board and attacked me, not to mention the guns shooting at me.

Next thing I know, I'm back in a prison cell staring at the ceiling. Dull.

—

I woke with a start at the sound of my name. I half expected to be pulled to my feet and forced down the corridor like the last time I was to be hanged. But this time, something is different. The small window to my cell is not shining any light like before. If I was being sent to the gallows there would at least be a bit of sunshine. So no, that is not what is happening here, I say it's still night and given the weight of my exhaustion, I say it's about three in the morning.

I turned to the voice that had said my name. On the other side of the cell bars, stood a man, average height, blond hair, wide blue eyes. He holds himself strong and steady, shoulders back, and hands firmly at their sides. Military, and judging by the tan he is with the Royal Navy, but no, not anymore, he is dressed too casually. Injury perhaps, but nothing visible. He still has all his limbs attached so it had to be a gunshot somewhere on his torso.

"You're Sherlock Holmes?" The man questioned urgently.

"Obviously. And you are?"

His stance grew taller, in an attempt to be intimidating. "Captain John Watson of the British Roy-"

"Oh stop it, you're embarrassing yourself." I shook my head. "You're _ex_ -navy and injured so I doubt you want to try to play intimidation with me. Now what do you want?"

John stared at me with calculating eyes. Probably trying to figure out the hell I know what I know but small minded people don't realize it is the simple act of observing that gives me everything I need. "How did you-"

I stood up and walked to the edge of my cell and stared at the man. Much closer I could tell he is older, maybe ten years older than I. He is tired, didn't get much sleep during the night, perhaps didn't sleep at all. He didn't back away when I stood facing him, we're close enough to share the same air but the bars blocked any possible physical contact between us. If this were a normal person, they would've backed away immediately, even though there is iron blocking my way to them. Their fear would overcome their sense of logic. But not John Watson, no he held his ground; so maybe he isn't as dumb as normal people but that could also be because he has military training and is meant to hold his ground.

"I'll answer your question when you answer mine." I shot at him. I had to crane my neck down to meet his eyes.

John paused for a moment. "I need your help." He said just barely above a whisper.

"You what?" My eyes narrowed at the suddenly small man before me.

"I said that I need your help." John spoke a bit more clearly and slightly more confidently but he wouldn't meet my gaze.

"What for?"

"Your brother, Mycroft, took some people from their homes last night-"

"Oh god, don't tell me." I can already tell how _dull_ this man is going to be. I turned and wandered around my small cell. "My brother has taken a damsel in distress and you want me to tell you where he is so you can go and rescue her and be her lovely knight-in-shining-armor and the two of you will live happily ever after sailing off into the sunset." My voice is whimsical but utterly uninterested. I spoke with flailing hands to express the exaggeration of my point.

John stared at me. "Er- not exactly."

"Then please John do enlighten me." I sat on the bench and crossed my legs, staring at him expectantly.

"Your brother took my sister and I need to get her back." He said smoothly.

Not a cliché then. Good. "And why come to me? If you know about me and my brother then you know that we do not speak so what makes you think I know where he is?"

John opened his mouth then shut it. Clearly he hadn't thought this idea through. "And what makes you think I would help you?" I continued.

John met my cold gaze. "Because pirate or not I know you're not a completely useless asshole the rest of the world thinks you are."

"Is that so?" I raised my eyebrows.

"I've heard the stories. I know what you did and what you do now. I know that you would never hurt those who don't deserve it. I know that you care about your brother even if he can be a real ass and I know the real reason why you risked your life to come to this town." John paused and stared at me, waiting for my reaction. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how to react. Sure, when it comes to the Navy they are to know the stories about infamous pirates like me but he couldn't know about mine and Mycrofts relationship and there is no way he could know why I came here.

"Why should I help you?" I asked in response.

"I can get you out of here." He said.

"And how's that?"

John reached into his pocket and withdrew a bundle of keys. "You don't know where Mycroft is then fine. Help me find him."

I felt my eyebrows raise high enough that they could've touched my hairline, if that were even possible. Fascinating. This man is rather interesting. His determination, his fearless attitude. No, that look in his eye, he is a bit fearful. Fearful of me and my answer but confident and strong nonetheless, he needs to be strong for his sister. Being in armed forces teaches one to not show anything that can be used against you, in case one came across an enemy such as a pirate. Such as me. But little do they understand how much I can see and how little able they are to really mask how they feel. But this one, this John, does so well. It is more difficult to tell how he is feeling on the inside; I've never come across another person capable of masking their feelings so well. That is fascinating indeed.

"Alright." I agreed without further thought. Besides, this could be rather fun. Better than sitting in this cell awaiting a typical death.

"Alright?" John questioned, this time his eyebrows shot up rather high.

I stood up and walked to the cell bars dividing us. "That is what I said," I frowned at him. I was caught between determining whether John is intelligent or stupid. Then decided on both, but now I'm not so sure.

"I didn't think it would be that easy." He said, searching through the rusty keys for the correct one.

I frowned further at him. "You're asking a man in a cell if he wants to be released. How could I not agree?"

"I'm pulling you from one prison to another, both with very likely chances of death."

"That is rather exciting, isn't it?" I grinned manically. John stared and shook his head. He found the correct key and was about to insert it before he stopped.

"Hang on, how do I know you won't run away once I open this door?"

Ah, now he is asking the right questions. Back to a bit intelligent then. "You don't."

"So I'm just supposed to trust you then? A pirate."

"How badly so you want to save your sister, John?" I cocked my head to one side and read the features on his face. Apprehension, anxious, desperate, curious.

Curiosity. That became the strongest feature in his eyes. He may know all about my past in some way or another, which is also quite interesting and I would be lying if I said I wasn't curious myself. His curiosity is going to get the better of him. I know this before he is inserting the key and unlocking the door.

I step out and watch him eye me as he closes the door and locks it again.

"Oh now you're just trying to make me look more impressive." I smirked, picturing the guards' faces as they come to retrieve me and find the cell empty _and_ locked.

" _More_ impressive?" John questioned with a hint of amusement. "You're rather arrogant, aren't you?"

"Well, you seem to know all about my life. Certainly you know how impressive I am." I stood tall above him and we walked down the hall towards the exit.

"Like I said, I've heard stories."

"And you believe them enough to come down here and think they will hold leverage over me."

"They are, aren't they?" John made it sound more as a statement than question.

I paused. Intelligent indeed. "What have you heard?"

"All in good time," John muttered.

"How do you know what I came here for?"

We reached the exit and John turned to me. "I'm saying nothing until we are out of here."

"Still don't trust me then." I commented.

"Are you still a pirate?"

I didn't respond. Why such a stupid question?

"Then I still don't trust you." He continued, and I scowled then turned to pull my belt, holding my gun and sword, from the wall.

"You're sailing into the unknown with me. Surely you trust me to _some_ extent."

"I don't." John said stubbornly, watching me strap my weapons around my waist.

"But you do." I said, slightly amused. "And you have to."

"Have to?" John scoffed.

"Yes. Because John it is a dangerous world out there and we are only two men. We will only have each other if things go wrong. Trust me and I'll do the same."

John narrowed his eyes at me. He is questioning my words though he knows I am correct. Surely he is smart enough to realize that. He doesn't want to trust me, that much is obvious. His military training is blocking all his sense of logic. But, there is a part of him who does trust me, based on these so called stories he has heard along with his need to save his sister. _Yuck_ , emotions, always getting in the way.

"We will see." John said finally. _I guess we will, John_.

We climbed the stairs, John leading the way until we are safely in an alley near the docks.

"Lead the way." John said looking at me expectantly. The moon is giving enough light to see the curves and contours of his soft face. His blue eyes shined even bluer in the little light there is.

Ignoring all of this because I definitely was _not_ admiring the view, I smirked. "Trusting me already?"

"To get us out of here," he stated stubbornly. Ah, so he is going to fake trusting me for awhile for his own sanity.

"Good enough." I said and started across to the docks, John following closely behind.


	2. A fine line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ^.^ here's chapter two

I would not have expected to have gotten out of here so easily. There are usually guards by the docks and given that two pirates were already seen there, more guards should be at the designated posting sites. But as I approached a ship and crossed onto it, John just behind me, I am finding the area abandoned yet again. Either these people are more idiotic than I anticipated or they will come at me again just as I am setting sail. The former is much more appreciated.

"You think we can man a ship this large with just the two of us?" John questioned, taking in the main mass and all the ropes.

"Obviously. Would I be here if not?" I gave him a glare.

"Right," John said and immediately got to work to castoff.

John and I continued preparing the ship, John began to adjust the sails in final preparations when he called out for me in a hushed tone. My eye roll came on its own, this man sailed the sea with the Royal Navy, surely he can tie a few ropes. When I reached him, Johns brow is furrowed and his eyes are focused on the shore.

"Don't move," I demanded of him, John didn't move. Over at the edge of the dock are soldiers gathering on the nearest naval ship and preparing sail. Obviously, they had not seen John and I, much to our advantage. The disadvantage, we cannot escape quick enough before getting shot at or worse.

New plan needed.

I looked over at John who slowly glanced over at me, and it clicked.

New plan formed.

"Do you trust me?" I asked him, only just then realizing my repetition.

John narrowed his eyes. "What are you thinking?"

"That's not a no. Good, I can work with that. I will need you to follow my lead."

"Sherlock-"

"Quiet. Timing is everything." I muttered and continued to watch the process on the ship two down from us.

Two minutes and thirty-nine seconds later, John grew impatient and began shifting his shoulder uncomfortably. Two minutes and forty-four seconds, my plan is ready.

"Follow my lead," I said again and swiftly took John by his fidgeting arm and guided him off the ship none too gently.

"Ow. Sherlock what the hell-"

"Shut up." I snapped as I led him down the dock and pulled out my pistol, John tried to stop walking at the sight of it. "Interlace your fingers behind your back," I demanded in his ear. John tried to protest but I tightened my hold on him and snapped, "just _trust_ me."

I led John down the dock and over to another, his hands behind his back and my gun aimed at his head.

"Evening gents," I called out to them and gathered their attention. Each soldier went for their weapon but I halted them by pressing the barrel of my gun against Johns temple. "Nobody moves or your beloved Watson here is dead." John struggled, but my hold on his arm is firm and quite clearly uncomfortable. His shoulder must be the location of that mysterious injury then.

"John?" One of the men called in surprise, all of them stared at John in pure shock. Huh, a well-known, liked, and respected Captain then.

"What do you want?" One of the crewmen called out.

"I want everyone off of this ship." Nobody moved. John groaned when I adjusted my hold on his arm. _Well done, John_. "Now!" I hollered, and slowly all the men moved off of the ship and onto the dock. "Form a line in front of me." They did as they were told. I counted each of them to the number I had counted before approaching. They are all there. I mentally scoffed. This could not be any easier.

"I want all your weapons dumped in the water," Sherlock commanded. Each man glanced at each other, and Sherlock overheard someone whisper 'do it for Johnny'. Once all the men are disarmed, Sherlock got to work.

"You, you and you. On the ship, make ready to sail." I pointed to the three smallest and nearest crewmen with my gun and they ran for the ship, doing as they are told.

Obviously new, and completely terrified. "The rest of you, if I see any movement before we are out of eyeshot, Watson dies. Understood?"

None of the men moved or even nodded. I pushed the barrel more forcefully into Johns temple, making him flinch. I stared at the sailors expectantly, they nodded. I watched the three men rushing about the ship like animals in a trap, keeping a sharp eye for any tricks they may pull over. The men on deck kept their eyes on the gun pointed to Johns head, unwavering. John stood still in my tight grasp, his eyes also on the other sailors. No doubt he knows most of them. Two men seem to be having a conversation with John just by facial expression. Pity and sympathy from one, the other is a searing rage. Ugh, pathetic human emotions. What good can they do you? Especially now when John is facing imminent death and there is nothing to be done about it?

I glanced down the dock and found no one on shore, and almost smirked. This is easy... Though that is the problem.

The three men ran off the ship with statements that the preparations are made and the ship is ready to go.

"You three, back in line," I demanded and they did as they are told. I walked towards the ship, pulling a struggling John with me and dragged him aboard. I kicked away the gangplank and forced John to cut away the ropes tethering the ship to port. Not quickly enough the wind caught the sails and slowly pulled the ship away from the edge. The entire time I kept an eye on the other men kneeling and watching us sail away. Once a fair amount of yards from them, I sheathed my gun and went to the helm at the back of the ship.

John didn't come up to me until our ship is surrounded by water and England is just a land mass behind us.

"You could've clued me in," John stated with a scowl.

I looked at him confused. What could he possibly be going on abo- Oh, my plan. "It looked more realistic if you were caught off guard," I said and kept my eyes on the open sea before me. My, I have spent far too long on bloody land.

"I could've acted the part just _fine_."

"What difference does it make? If I had told you then you would have said no. I made a judgment call."

"Judgment call? You held a gun to my head!" John exclaimed angrily.

"Aye, very good assessment, John. I'm sure it was not the first time you were held at gunpoint, and it certainly will not be the last time. Best accept that now."

John stood fuming beside me. Emotions again, I grit my teeth. My eyes stayed locked on the ocean and I wondered why I ever made port. Everything about it made me feel at ease; the smell of salt and seaweed that can be recognized as ocean water, the cool and damp breeze on my face, the wide-spread, deserted blue range where I can remain undisturbed by ignorant and incompetent people. A true delicacy.

I was broken from my trance when the sound of something snapping pulled me back to the ship. A rope snapped near the mass and I groaned. I knew those idiots would tamper with something.

John was on it right away, saving the rope and sail from drawing us off course. Without any issues, John tied the rope back in place and went about double-checking the rest of the sails to ensure nothing else was going to break.

I noticed the sun begin to rise on my left, painting the horizon with different shades of pink and yellow. The sun peaked over the water and cast shadows on the ship. The water glistened, and I felt the heat dance on my face. Ah yes, home at last.

John was at my side when the sun had fully risen from its hibernation. He looked over the edge at the water, his face set in a frown, eyes distant. Lost in deep thought then.

"Shut up," I muttered loudly enough for John to hear.

John jumped a bit in place and looked over his shoulder at me. "I didn't say anything."

"You're thinking, it's annoying," I stated and John shook his head and walked back over to me. He leaned against the railing directly in front of the helm and stared at me.

"You still want those answers?" John asked.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "You're going to tell me?"

Johns' voice is low and serious. "I keep my word. Can you keep yours?"

"You're still alive and I haven't run away. What do you think?" I responded sharply.

John eyed me and then nodded, deciding that is enough to go on. "What do you want to know?"

"How did you know the reason I came to England?"

John looked out at the ocean behind me. "I followed you."

I frowned. "You followed me? Impossible. I make sure I am never followed." I argued with him.

"Well, you do a lousy job of it," John smirked. "Don't give me that look, yes I followed you. I caught sight of you when you were walking across the Thames. I know everyone in that city. It was my job to protect them once, and then it became my job to heal them. I have had everyone as my patient at least once. Perks of being the only good Doctor on the island."

"So you happen to come across me by chance, and you follow me. How did you know I wasn't a murderer?"

John smiled again, I was tempted to smile back. What an odd sensation, I have no reason to smile at this man and here I am finding a strong desire to do so. Luckily I have self-control and remained scowling. After all, this man has found a way around my perfect eyesight and followed me to the one place no one should ever know about. That is very much worth being perturbed about.

"I didn't. But weren't you the one who said that I crave the danger?"

Right, stupid! Of course I was, what an idiotic question.

"So you followed me, and then what?" Another ridiculous question. He followed me and found my secrets.

"And then you went into this mansion on the outskirts of the city so I stopped and waited for you. When you came out I followed you into town, watched you get chased, discovered who you are, learned your brother kidnapped my sister and other innocent people and found you in the cellar." John stated matter-of-factly. Yes, it was all quite obvious. But I needed to know what John saw.

"Who do you think I was with, John? You said you knew. How do you know?" My voice grew gravely. I moved to get closer to John, to intimidate him, but the helm held me back. My glare will have to do.

"There is only one person that lives so far off the reservation," John stated easily as if none of this is a big deal. "And that's Maryse."

I waited for John to continue, but he stopped. He is waiting for me to fill in the blanks. John does not know who Maryse is to me, but he knows her, he's met her. She wouldn't be stupid enough to mention my name or mention me at all. Good, John is still in the dark, I will see to keep it that way.

"Very good job, Captain Watson," I stated and then proceeded to look busy at steering us on the ocean.

John sighed, and I saw him move from the corner of my eye. "You won't tell me who she is, will you?"

I didn't respond. No, I obviously _won't_ tell you Captain Watson of the Royal Navy dedicated to slaughtering pirates and those associated with them.

"Right then," John said mostly to himself and then moved to the deck to examine the sails.

—

It was around midday when we reached our stop. John anchored the ship when we pulled to port, but I couldn't stop staring at the skies in the distance. The first place I was planning to find Mycroft is in the direction of those storm clouds, and I don't like storms.

Let's hope my crew can handle it.

"So," John came up beside me. "What now?"

I blinked away from the horizon and into equally as stormy depths. Johns eyes are blue like the sea but hold as much ferocity as the oncoming storm and I know instantly that I would let Johns storm take me without a fight.

"Sherlock?" John frowned at me with concern. Apparently, I've been staring.

"Onto land John," I say and begin disembarking the ship. I can feel John follow closely, and almost hear his concerned thoughts wanting to ask if I'm alright, but my swift movements must be enough for him to let the question die on his tongue for he never asks.

I know where to go immediately like it's an autonomic response. I walk the familiar pathways up to the pub near the town center.

"Where are we?" John asks closely behind me, I can feel his body heat from his proximity and try not to get distracted. "I don't remember ever seeing this island on the military maps."

"They wouldn't be on your military maps considering this island doesn't exist."

I lead us into the pub and find it packed like usual. I scan the crowds searching for one gray head in particular.

"What do you mean it doesn't exist?"

Oh Watson, ever the mindlessly curious one.

"I mean this island isn't written on your maps which is why people like _me_ frequent it often."

"I thought we had all of the islands from England to Australia—"

_There_ he is, just where I expected to find him. "Well clearly not John, and frankly if you did then pirates wouldn't have a place to go would they?"

I walked away before John could say another word. Still, he follows me like a lost puppy which given his recent discovery makes sense. He is on a strange island full of convicts and only knows one man.

By the time Lestrade noticed me I was standing at the table before him. He held a pint in one hand and had another discarded on the dirty table. He looked up at me, tipsy as all hell, but still able to recognize me nonetheless.

"Oh bugger," he grumbles before downing the rest of his beer.

"John, will you give us a moment?" I don't turn around to see if he will agree, already knowing he will. It took a moment before I felt Johns presence move away, and that's when I checked behind me to see he's relocated to the bar.

"Who's the stiff?" Lestrade inquires. I take a seat across from him and glance over at John. The bar is only a few feet away, but it is loud enough in here that their voices should remain unheard.

"Royal Navy."

" _What_?" If Lestrade was drinking something he would have choked on it. "And you brought him _here_?"

"We are indebted to each other and he doesn't know where we are. He is not a threat to us." Even as I say it I know it's true despite the terms we met on and reluctantly agreed to trust each other with. "And it's not like you weren't once apart of the Navy," I remind him pointedly.

Lestrade glared at me. "What do you want, Sherlock?" Lestrade wonders in exasperation and fiddles with his empty rum pint.

"I need a crew."

Lestrade scoffs, "famous last words," he mumbles.

"I'm serious," I tell him with a glare. 

"Why?"

"Because it takes more than two men to operate a ship," I snap in annoyance.

Lestrade meets my gaze warily. His pupils are blown wide from the rum consumption making them look darker than normal. "This better not be another one of your silly hunts-"

"I'm going after my brother."

" _Oh_ lovely-"

"Who I suspect is _on_ one of the hunts."

"Even better." Lestrade snaps before he rests his arms on the table and leans onto them. "Look, Sherlock, sailing with you was wonderful but I'm ready to settle down. I'm getting too old for the sea."

I glare at him. "You're lying to yourself. You're just afraid to see my brother again."

Lestrade sighed. "I'm afraid of what happened the last time we dealt with one of your _adventures_ -"

"Mycroft is onto something this time. He took multiple civilians from England and is taking them to the caves right now." My patience is wearing thin, I need Lestrade to agree to sail with me again. He is the best first mate I've ever had and can gather a crew faster than I have ever seen before. I need him, or else there is little hope of catching up to Mycroft and more for the Navy to catch up to _him_. 

Lestrade scratched at his stubbly beard. "That is strange, even for him."

I leaned forward, mimicking Lestrades position. "And you and I know him better than anyone. He wouldn't do this unless he knows something we don't."

Lestrade stared at me with contemplating eyes, but I know before he decides what his choice will be. "I'll gather up a crew," he sighs. "But Sherlock if this is another wild chase-"

I leaned back in my chair. "It won't be. I made a promise, and I plan to keep my word."

"Right then," Lestrade nodded and stood up, I followed suit. "I'll meet you at the harbor in an hour with a crew and we can set sail."

"We need a ship too."

Lestrade glared at me.

"We got here on a stolen Navy ship," I tell him. "So unless you want-"

"I'll get us a ship," he sighed in clear annoyance. "One hour."

I pat him on the shoulder, genuinely glad to have his help again. "You're a good man, Graham."

"It's _Greg_ ," he sneered but I was already retrieving John and leaving the pub.


	3. too deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one took some time to write, life gets busy! Thanks to everyone who has read, commented, subscribed, and gave kudos so far. I wasn't expecting much attention on this story at all so it was a nice surprise. 
> 
> To address a specific comment, I am sorry there isn't enough BAMFness. A plot must be created before I can put the characters through hell and force them to be a BAMF. This isn't a story where the characters are automatically developed in that way. They are BAMFs in their own right at the moment given their occupations and will continue to grow as such even if it's not obvious right now.
> 
> Anywho, have a great night everyone! xo

"What happened to your previous crew?" John asks as we exit the pub.

"You hungry?" I ignore his inquiry and start walking further into the dank town.

"Sherlock?" John follows me, his refusal to drop the topic is clear but irrelevant to me. Instead, I favor observing my surroundings.

It has been a long time since I was last on the Vatican Islands, a place I have long called my home, as have many other criminals and pirates. It consists of three islands, the main one of which is the largest and where most people reside, and two smaller ones flanking it. The one to the east is rocky and completely uninhabitable. It is so small that it shouldn't even be classified as land, it is just a pile of rocks jutting out from the ocean and takes up about as much space as a standard ship would. The one to the west is larger and covered in trees, it is similar to the main island in occupation but on a smaller scale. There are still shops and pubs and homes, just not as many. It is close enough that a large dock has been built connecting it to the Main so people can walk to and from both islands.

As I walked I let my fingers card through the fabrics hanging in the shop stalls we pass, and then let them dance over the wind chimes in the following stall. I stop at the next one that has books for sale and observe them until one catches my eye about chemistry. I pocket the hand-held size book and drop two silver coins on the table for the vendor.

All the while, I could sense John growing antsy. Now he runs in front of me, forcing me to stop abruptly, and effectively block my direction of travel. "I thought we were going to be honest with each other." He looks into my eyes with those annoying big blues of his and watches as I roll mine in return if only to break the intensity of his gaze.

"We agreed to _trust_ each other. There's a difference." I weave around John and continue on my journey. John follows and doesn't let up.

"What happened that you didn't have a crew or ship when you left England?"

I stop walking in front of the pub I was looking for and turn to John who stares curiously up at me expecting an answer. I ignored his question again and instead look towards the entrance of the pub and say, "this should do," before walking inside.

John follows, of course, with his exasperation evident, and more than likely suspecting he may not get his answer.

My eyes land on Angelo when I enter the pub, but only because he sees me first and exclaims my name before my eyes can adjust to the darkened lighting.

He approaches me with a giant smile and pulls me into a bone-crushing hug. It may be true that I haven't been home in a while but word must have spread about the gallows for Angelo to be more delighted than usual to see me.

When he pulls away and holds me at arms length, he looks me over once before peering over my shoulder at John who I can imagine is frowning at the scene.

"It is so good to see you, Sherlock. When I heard about what happened in England I feared the worst."

I smile kindly, my suspicions correct. "When have you ever known me to suffer the fate of the gallows?"

Angelo laughs and then looks over my shoulder again, obviously curious. "Your usual table, then, for you and your date?"

"Yes please," I said just as John choked on a gasp behind me.

Angelo leads us through the mellow restaurant to the corner booth against the windows. We sat, and he hands me a menu. I look up at him quizzically, I never need a menu.

"We got some new items that I think you'll love," he explains.

"This man saved me from the gallows," Angelo informed John as he hands him his parchment menu.

Johns' eyebrows shot up, and he glances over at me. "Oh?"

"Angelo was the prime suspect in a murder, and while I couldn't exactly show my face in England, I had to send some anonymous evidence to prove that Angelo was in a different part of town housebreaking."

"He cleared my name!" Angelo exclaims with the most admiring expression on his face.

"I cleared it a bit."

"How did you know he was housebreaking if you couldn't be in England?" John wonders.

"I didn't say I wasn't in England, just that I couldn't show my face."

John nods, obviously trying to work out how that case went down. Really, it was simple. The incompetent police didn't bother to check for reports of robberies in neighboring villages, so I send in a tip that perhaps they should, and therefore informed Angelo to confess to his real crime.

He did, and naturally, I helped him escape from a year in jail.

"Let me light the candle for the table, it's more romantic." With that, Angelo scurries off for a match. John shook out of his thoughts and stares with his mouth hanging agape after Angelo.

"He's harmless, John." I feel the need to tell him. Same-sex relationships are forbidden in most countries and could result in things far worse than the gallows. It's only natural for John to be shocked by the blatant assumption, however, he is on an island full of pirates so it shouldn't come as much of a surprise.

"But we're not-"

"Why does it offend you so much?"

John opens his mouth to reply but stops short. He breaks eye contact, obviously not expecting such a brazen question.

Angelo comes back and lights the candle for us. It's not necessary as we are against the window but if it appeases the man then so be it.

He leaves us, and when he is out of hearing range John looks up at me.

"It's wrong," John states.

"Is that all you got?"

John shifts uncomfortably. "It's not... right."

I restrain myself from smacking him across the head. I mean honestly, I thought John was one of the _intelligent_ ones. 

"First off, changing the way you say it doesn't make it a different answer. Secondly, we are pirates, John, we don't care about what's right or wrong by social standards. If a man chooses to be with a man or a woman with another woman, we are not here to judge or care. You shouldn't either."

John looks away with his cheeks tinted pink, and a deep frown at his brows like he is trying to figure something out. 

"So, are you...?" John trails off with a scowl and nervous hand gestures.

"Am I what?" I ask. Like hell, if I'm not going to make him say it, watching the Navy Captain squirm in his seat is deeply satisfying.

"Are you—do you have a—areyouinterestedinmen?" He quickly spits out in a jumble.

I try not to grin at his obvious distaste at the words and decide to have a little fun. "While I'm flattered by your interest, John, relationships aren't really my area."

John chokes on air, and I wave over the barkeep to bring water. John takes a drink the moment the glass is placed in front of him.

That really was fun.

"I wasn't-"

"Take a _joke_ , Captain," I say and take a sip of my own water.

John clears his throat, "right. Of course."

I lean over the table with my arms crossed on top of the counter and speak low. "John, it is important for you to remember that you are surrounded by pirates. Don't think for a second they won't spot an outsider if you give them a reason to."

Johns face blanched.

"What is it that the Italians say? When in Rome..."

John shakes his head. "I'm here to find my sister, not become a pirate myself."

"You're missing my point, John. You're not becoming a pirate, you're adapting as needed. Once you're home, you'll adapt back. It's simple science, really."

John looks down at his menu and I barely hear him mumble, _what did I get myself into?_

A moment later we order our food and wait for it to arrive.

"That man you went to when we arrived, was he your first mate?"

The abrupt question catches me off guard, and I study John to find his angle. He is too inquisitive about my life and I know better than to think this question isn't leading somewhere.

"Yes," I drag out the word as if I could slow down time to keep John from asking more. I slump in the booth and stare at the flame dancing in the short wax candle.

"Is he gathering your old crew?"

"New crew. The old one is gone," _shut up, Sherlock! Why are you telling him this?_

John seems to think on his words before asking them, but I know exactly what he is going to ask before he does. He's only been asking since we arrived.

"What happened?"

"None of your business," I snap. John doesn't physically react, but I can tell he is surprised by my sharp response.

"Alright," he says and takes a drink of water. "How about this, I'll tell you something about me and you'll tell me something about you."

I roll my eyes at his juvenile idea, but sit up in my place anyway, curiosity always got the best of me. "Alright, John. Dazzle me with something from your past." It was meant to come out sarcastic but ended up sounding the opposite.

"Well, I don't really know where to start. Perhaps this will be better if you ask something."

I huff out a sigh and cross my arms. "I'm sure I could deduce everything I need to know."

"I don't doubt it," John appeases. "Just humor me."

I consider everything I know about him. Ex-Navy Captain, Doctor, brother, friend, mid-thirties, homophobic based on the previous conversation—possibly because he is far too deep in the closet--parents deceased otherwise he wouldn't have abruptly left England... and with a pirate? Conclusion: sister is his only family. He is trustworthy, honorable, and loyal. What more do I really need to know?

"Why did you become a doctor?" I find myself asking, surprising myself more than John with the question.

John smiles sadly. "My parents. My father was a Navy sergeant so he wasn't around much, but when he was, he was a perfect father to me and Harry, and perfect husband to my mum.

My mother fell ill while he was out at sea so I was left to take care of her. I learned every remedy I could but nothing was working, not even the town doctor could figure it out. The day before she died, my father came back and stayed with her until the end. Harry took it the hardest, and my father told me that I have to look out for her—"

"He was saying goodbye," I deduce easily.

"Yes," John confirms. "Although, I didn't know that at the time. No one really knows what happened after he left port. Some say his ship sunk, that he was ambushed, or shipwrecked. Whatever it was, it meant he wasn't coming back. That's when I finally understood what he meant: 'take care of your sister because I can't.'"

Our food arrived then, putting the conversation on pause. A plate of Cajun pasta in front of John, and a smaller plate of salmon for me.

We eat in companionable silence. I only make it halfway through my food before I feel the fullness in my stomach.

John looks up when I put the fork down. "You're not already finished?"

I shrug. "I wasn't hungry to begin with, and besides, food slows me down."

John looks baffled. "How could it—oh never mind," he brushes it off and goes back to eating.

"So, you became a doctor because you want to heal people in a way you couldn't with your mother, but your father wanted you to watch after Harry, so what better way than to have all your currency sent to her by the military?"

John nods and swallows his food before speaking. "I didn't want to leave her, but it would take time and money to become a doctor without the support of the Navy. I had to choose between staying and not be capable of supporting her, or leaving and giving her all I have for a decent life."

"Understandable," I say.

"I almost became a blacksmith, but Harry wouldn't have it. She knew what I wanted, and she pushed me to get it by any means." He finally finished his plate and leans back in his seat.

I crinkle my nose at the image of John becoming a blacksmith, that's just so... normal. He would have never lasted.

He notices this and frowns at me with a slight amusement. "What is it?"

"Just—you, a blacksmith."

John's eyebrows shot up. "That's funny to you?" He scoffs, now trying hard not to smile.

"Yes, John. You crave far too much adventure and danger for you to live a mundane life in _blacksmithing_." I say the words with such distaste that I feel it reflect on my facial expression.

John stares at me, and then finally gives in and laughs. Confused, I watch him in his fit of giggles. His whole face is lit up with the action and he covers his mouth to keep from laughing too loudly. I find it oddly enduring, as it makes John look much younger and more relaxed, and I find myself unable to hold back a smile and chuckling along with him.

After John is able to get ahold of himself, I drop some coins on the table to cover the meal and leave Angelo and little extra for his efforts. 

"Ready?" I ask John. His face is still a little pink with how hard he laughed. _It wasn't_ that _funny_ , I think to myself, but John has proven time and time again that he is different from the average idiot so it shouldn't be much of a surprise.

"Yeah," he says and stands with me to leave.

We wave goodbye at Angelo as we exit.


End file.
